Yin and Yang - 100 Themes of HashiMada
by AndThenBurnTheAshes
Summary: Night and day, black and white, yin and yang, they move with and yet against one another through everything. Dedicated to my awesome friend. Because she kept annoying me about it. And this pairing needs more love.
1. Polar Opposites

Hashirama was always bright, like the sun, so bright that sometimes it was hard to look at him. When he smiled, you couldn't help but be drawn into him, his rich laughter filling the air around you.

He felt…safe to be around, with his arms drawn tight around your body, providing you with the kind of warmth only the closeness of another body can provide.

On the other hand, Madara was as dark as a moonless night, a black aura often surrounding him that scared away any of his potential love interests. He never smiled, choosing to glare at anyone who was unfortunate enough to be in his way at the moment.

No one felt safe around him, and he _hated _it when anyone came within two feet of him, let alone actually _touch _him.

Hashirama always wanted, no, _needed _to be around people, his naturally sunny attitude brightening up anyone's day, and his boisterous attitude often making him the life of the party. He had a habit of touching someone when they were talking, whether it be a simple touch on the arm or a brushing of the hair out of the eyes.

Whereas, Madara _hated _being near anyone else, growling and glaring at anyone who dared talk to, or Kami forbid, _touch _him. When he was forced to go to social events by his younger brother, he was the one you could find in the corner, trying to be as unnoticeable and inconspicuous as possible.

And yet…

When Hashirama was with Madara, the brown-haired male always respectfully kept his distance from the Uchiha, not wanting to cause another fight between the two clans simply because he couldn't keep his hands off the other male.

And people noticed that when Madara was around the Senju, he seemed to speak a bit more than usual. He still glared at people, but everyone noticed that there was hardly a glare that was thrown Hashirama's way.

They were almost always seen in the other's presence, whether it be by accident or the fault of Hashirama, who always encouraged the Uchiha to become more social and active in the village.

And gradually, little by little, people began to see that Madara was beginning to open up to the Senju, sometimes even flashing a small smile his way when he did something idiotic, and that Hashirama was becoming more and more serious and taking his duties seriously, as encouraged by the Uchiha.

Polar opposites they may be, there was always something linking each to the other, something that showed in every Uchiha smile and every second of Senju seriousness.

The unbreakable bond of love and friendship.

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God, I nearly choked on how cheesy the ending was. This is a challenge that was given to me by my amazing friend, who is completely _obsessed _with this pairing. 100 themes of how Hashirama and Madara work/love/bond/create a friendship together. And I will finish this.

There will be canon shooting, but *shrugs* whatcha gonna do 'bout it?


	2. Hate

It wasn't very often that Madara said that he hated Hashirama. In fact, the last time he had said it was right after Izuna had been killed, when Madara had gone on a rampage around the village, screaming loudly the whole time that he hated every single goddamn Senju and he wanted them all dead and that the next Senju he saw would be _Katon_'_ed _into the next life.

Fortunately (or unfortunately, in his case) the next Senju he saw had been Hashirama, who had taken one look at him and immediately wrapped him in his arms, which caused the Uchiha to go berserk, screaming and howling about how he had "better get his fucking arms off of him or else he would picking pieces of his flesh up off the ground in a second," which only served to make Hashirama grip him tighter, praying to Kami that Madara wouldn't actually hold to his threat.

It took him two hours, but finally, Madara's wails subsided, and he shuddered in the Senju's grasp, still muttering curses and death threats. Hashirama had tilted the Uchiha's head to face him.

"I will do whatever you want me to do. What will it take for you to be happy again?"

Madara had completely frozen, then closed his eyes, slowly beginning to chuckle, which escalated into loud, raucous laughter that shook his slight form. The laughter died away, and he opened his eyes again, a mad smile on his face.

"There is _nothing _you could _ever _do to make me forgive what your fucking brother did. However…" he murmured, sliding his hands into the other man's hair "If you want me to be happy again…" gripping the brown locks tightly in his fist, he yanked the Senju's face down to collide with his knee.

"You'll have to beg."

What followed was the most brutal torture anybody had ever seen, or rather, _heard_, as most everyone had been driven away by the loud screams that had unwilling torn themselves from Hashirama's throat. Madara had to be pulled off of the Senju after several hours, as someone had finally become frightened enough to step in and break apart the two, Madara covered in Hashirama's blood, and the other man barely conscious on the ground, several of the bones in his body completely shattered and deep gashes covering every inch of visible skin.

The last thing that Hashirama heard before he passed out was Madara's hoarse whisper. Three words that had never been directed his way before, at least by the slighter male.

"I hate you."

And it damn near broke his heart when he said it.


	3. The Dawn

The dawn was Hashirama's favorite time of the day. It was peaceful and quiet, with hardly anyone around to disrupt the silence. He often woke up early, just so he could go outside and watch the sun come up. Each sunrise seemed more beautiful than the last to him, and every morning he swore that even if he lived for a thousand years, he would never be able to find a sunrise that was even more brilliant and stunning than the one he had just witnessed.

Of course, there were other reasons why Hashirama loved the dawn. He loved the feeling that being up before everyone else gave him. A feeling of power, like he could do _anything, _and no one would know because they would all still be asleep.

He loved the fact that he was able to get some work done in the mornings, nobody around to burst in on him and disrupt his work. Tobirama was _especially _bad at that, crashing through his door at the most inopportune moments and causing a huge ruckus that usually lead to one Hashirama's guards escorting the younger Senju outside, protesting loudly about unfair it was that his own _brother _would treat him like this, _especially _since he was the _Hokage, _and the Hokage was supposed to help and listen to the people of the village when they were in need.

There were hundreds of other reasons that Hashirama loved the dawn, but the biggest reason of all was something that no one else knew about, a sort of…_game _he played with himself.

He would wake up, and with his eyes closed, he would roll over and reach out to try and locate any source of warmth in his bed. If the sheets were cold and empty, he would sigh and give a bitter smile, not really surprised. He would get up and get dressed, all the while trying to swallow down the tang of resentment he felt about waking up alone again.

He woke up alone most of the time.

But…

Sometimes, very rarely, he found another source of warmth, another body lying next to his, the heat radiating off of them not matching the coldness that Hashirama found in their eyes. When this happened, Hashirama would sigh, and carefully, oh so carefully, pull the body closer to him, snuggling the other man close to his chest. He would wrap his arms around him, smile, then try to fall back asleep, knowing that if he were to be awake when Madara woke up, he would probably get a scythe through his throat if he were to try and give any sort of excuse.

But sometimes, he couldn't help but watch the slighter male sleep, the pale chest rising and falling with each shallow breath, and his face more relaxed than it ever was when he was awake, something that Hashirama always thought of whenever Madara was berating him for slacking off on his duties.

Hashirama loved the dawn.

It was the only time he could ever tell Madara that he loved him.


	4. What do you want?

"Hey! Madara!"

The Uchiha steadfastly ignored the Senju that had been trying to get his attention for the past five minutes. He had just been walking along on his way home from the training grounds, minding his own business, when Hashirama Senju had happened to walk by, also on his way home, and immediately began pestering the slighter man, ignoring the raven's glares that had steadily grown more and more deadly.

"Madara! C'mon, say something to me! I just want to talk!" the Senju seemed to be purposefully ignoring the death glares that Madara was sending him, instead taking to bounce around the shorter man like a maniac, an idiotic grin slapped across his face. He stopped short in front of Madara to try and make him say _something, _but the Uchiha simply growled and walked around him, his pace quickening.

"Madara~" Hashirama sang his name, beginning to hum a random tune and _skip _right next to the Uchiha, whose right eye began twitching furiously. The Senju seemed oblivious to the stares and weird looks that they were getting.

He's probably immune to them because he acts so stupid all the time, Madara thought in his head, praying to Kami that _someone _would save him from the menace that was Hashirama Senju.

"Madara Uchiha, I swear if you don't say something to me right now, I will tell the next person we see about last night."

Madara's eyes widened ever so slightly at that. He wouldn't dare…

"Oh yes, I can and I _will _do that if you don't say something to me within the next ten seconds."

The Uchiha internally scoffed at that, and decided to call the Senju's bluff. There was no way in hell…

Rolling his eyes, Hashirama tapped the shoulder of a young woman who was passing them by.

"Excuse me ma'am, but did you know that Madara will practically _beg _for you to fuck him if you aren't fast enough at satisfying him? And if you're wondering how I know that, it's because last night he and I we-mmff fuum…" his voice was quickly muffled as a mortified Madara clapped his hand over the Senju's mouth and dragged him away from the shocked woman. The Uchiha could feel Hashirama's shoulders shaking with laughter, and he shoved the taller man up against the wall of an alley.

"Okay, that is IT! What the _fuck _do you _want?!_ All I wanted was to go home and rest, maybe come back and train a little more, but nooo, Hashirama fucking Senju wants to pester and annoy me, and when I try to ignore him and not put my fist through his head, he goes and tells people about my _sex life!_ I simply _cannot _understand why you feel the need to – _what the hell is so _funny _you fucker?!"_

Hashirama chuckled again, and leaned forward to peck Madara on the lips, pushing the smaller male away from him.

"You're adorable when you're angry, you know?" Smirking, he shoved his hands in his pockets and walked off, waiting for the outburst that was sure to come…

…Wait for it…

"Wha…what the _hell _you _bastard?! _You annoyed me for _twenty fucking minutes straight_, all because you wanted to fucking _kiss me?! _We are _never _having sex again!"

"Good luck with that one…" Hashirama muttered, knowing that Madara would never be able to keep to that promise.

"I heard that, you bastard!"


	5. Broken Glass

"I swear, you are the most idiotic person I have ever met. If anybody else had half the brain that I have, you would have been booted out of office long ago." Hashirama bowed his head as he was berated for the third time that day by the sharp-tongued Uchiha. And really, he didn't deserve it this time. All he had suggested was that they try and teach _all _the children in Konoha different types of ninjutsu, not just the ones who could pay the most.

"-Why am I the only person around here the only one with a brain? Honestly, I don't know how you ever survived until adulthood with the stupid stuff that you try to pull-" the Uchiha continued to rant above him, and Hashirama felt something stir up inside of him, something that he hadn't felt for a very, _very _long time.

Anger.

"That's enough, Madara!" the smaller man seemed taken aback at the fact that the Senju had snapped at him, something that he had never seen him do to…well, _anyone._

"I am tired of your complaints and your constant remarks about me and my family. I understand that you're still jealous that I'm Hokage and you're not, and that you're still grieving over Izuna's death, but _that doesn't give you the right to constantly insult everyone I care about!"_

Madara froze. Hashirama had _never _dared to talk to him like that, always laughing off any insults that the smaller man might throw at him, or simply ignoring him.

But this…Hashirama had actually gotten _mad, _something that Madara couldn't ignore. So, he did what an Uchiha does.

_Fight fire with fire._

"I think the fact that your very own fucking brother killed mine gives me the right to complain about a few things that you do! I'm the head of my clan, and I need to do what is necessary to ensure the safety of it! _Every _fucking idea you have will end up hurting my clan, one way or another, and it will be over _my dead body _that I let you destroy what's left of my goddamn family!" Madara had by this point gotten right up in Hashirama's face, his Mangekyou Sharingan swirling dangerously in his eyes.

Hashirama growled, and bodily lifted the smaller man up by the front of his shirt, slamming him against the wall behind his desk. He didn't care when Madara's head whacked painfully against the wood, nor did he care when the slighter man began clawing at the hands that were holding him up, his face slowly turning red from the lack of oxygen. Shoving his face directly against Madara's, he bared his teeth and yelled.

"What is _wrong _with you?! Every goddamn time I suggest we do something for the betterment of our village, _you _go off and insult all the time and effort I put into developing these ideas! 'Oh no, that'll hurt my clan, that'll hurt my clan.' Well too fucking bad! Sometimes, I have to put the village before your clan, and believe it or not, the universe doesn't revolve around the Uchiha clan! I am the fucking _Hokage, _and I make the fucking decisions around here, so you can just get off your high horse and _stop trying to boss me around!" _

Releasing Madara, the Senju felt a twinge of pity when he saw how heavily the Uchiha was gasping on the ground, red staining his black hair from how hard he had been slammed against the wall. After a few minutes of wheezing, Madara glared up at the Senju and stalked out of the room, scarlet droplets of blood leaving a trail behind him. The instant the door slammed shut, Hashirama sank into his chair and buried his face in his hands.

Trying to argue with Madara was trying to run on broken glass: no matter what you did, no matter how careful you were, you were still going to get cut.

"And Madara's tongue is as sharp as glass as well…" Hashirama chuckled weakly to himself before groaning and banging his head on his desk.

Sometimes he really hated being Hokage.

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…These chapters are getting longer.

And I'm not sure I like that.

Review!


	6. Eyes

When asked what his favorite part of Madara was, Hashirama would immediately reply with "His eyes." And it was true. Hashirama loved Madara's eyes.

He loved the way that his eyes would light up when he spoke to his younger brother, or another close family member. The animation that would gleam in them was rare for an Uchiha, and even rarer for Madara.

His eyes hadn't lit up like that since Izuna had been killed.

He loved the way that Madara's eyes would glow red in the dark during a battle or spar, the black _tomoe _in the center spinning and sifting rapidly in the odd ways of the Sharingan, a new pattern seeming to appear every other week. They were Madara's favorite feature as well, often boasting about it when asked if "they weren't different last time last time I saw you" by many people outside of his clan.

It was almost eerie, really, how it could be pitch-black outside, and you could still see in front of you because of the glow from the Uchiha's eyes.

He loved the way his eyes would droop slightly when he was tired, the only sign that Madara needed to stop and rest if they were on a mission. Often, Hashirama had to actually order him to go and get some sleep when the Uchiha came in to see if there were any missions available, something that Madara _despised _him doing, insisting that he was "not a child and could take care of himself, dammit." The Senju would just roll his eyes and drag Madara down the hall to the infirmary, where he was almost always able to get a nurse to ensure that the Uchiha get some well needed rest.

It was scary how far Madara would push his body in order to ensure the village stay safe.

He loved the way the Uchiha would look away, embarrassed, when Hashirama suggested the smaller man stay over at his house during the night.

He loved the fact that black-haired male couldn't keep his eyes off the Senju's body when they were undressing.

He loved the way Madara's eyes would close in pleasure when they were together, keeping them closed for fear that his Sharingan might activate by accident again and Hashirama be trapped in another Genjutsu.

He loved the way his eyes would fly open at the end, and he would moan Hashirama's name, lust clouding the black irises.

He loved the way that Madara would look at him, after they cleaned themselves up. There was no anger, no sadness, no pain in his eyes, like he had seen too many times before. Hashirama would watch those eyes until they fell shut, and then he himself would resign himself to sleep as well.

His eyes were beautiful.

Madara was beautiful.

And that was what Hashirama swore to his dying day.

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…Is it just me, or did anyone else hate that chapter as well? I mean…the ending…I…just…GRARGH! *flips table.* Review, please. Or I swear to Jashin I will have Madara die in the next chapter. Courtesy of Hashirama.


	7. Art

"Ah…"

Madara's back arched in pleasure as he was taken into Hashirama's mouth. Gripping the long brown hair of the other man, he panted and moaned as he began grinding down on the fingers that were inside of him.

"Ha…Hashirama…ngh!" His eyes rolled in pleasure and he moaned even louder as Hashirama located his prostate. The bigger man brushed against it teasingly, then winced when the hands in his hair yanked at his head.

"Don't…don't tease me you basta-ah! Ah! AH! Hashi-!" Madara moaned as the Senju pressed down on his prostate, rubbing his inner walls and deep-throating him at the same time. The Uchiha tensed up, then let out a long moan of pleasure as he finally came. He collapsed, boneless, onto the black sheets, his eyes fluttering with exhaustion. Hashirama swallowed, then wiped his mouth off in satisfaction, crawling up to kiss Madara's cheek. The deep breaths that the smaller male was taking indicated that he was asleep, something that Hashirama was glad for, since Madara never went to sleep unless either the Senju made him, or he collapsed from exhaustion.

The brown-haired man's eyes softened, and he lay down next to Madara, wrapping a solid arm around the other man's chest and burying his face in the black locks of the Uchiha. The smaller male grumbled, but allowed the Senju to snuggle up to him.

Hashirama was bone-tired, but he couldn't sleep, mainly because of the beauty that he held in his arms. Every piece of him was like a work of art, something that he would treasure and protect with his life.

Madara's skin, pale as marble, but marred with bruises and burns and scars from training and battles. Every time they would spar, Hashirama would do his best not to leave marks on the pale flesh. But, somehow, Madara would end up with a random gash over his eye, or a dislocated shoulder, or a bruised hip. The Uchiha would brush it off, saying that it was necessary to train as brutally as possible if he wanted to get better. But Hashirama would feel bad about it, and would try and make it up to him later, whether it be bringing him dango after training, or making love to him later that night.

He would do whatever was necessary to keep Madara as unbruised and unblemished as possible.

Madara's hair, black as ebony and as smooth as silk, but always as tangled and wild as a thorn thicket. Hashirama would often _plead _with Madara to let him brush his hair at least _once, _but Madara always shoved him away, saying that "he wasn't two and that he didn't fucking need someone to take care of him." The Uchiha never really took care of his hair, and it drove Hashirama up the wall, his own hair always lovingly washed and brushed out every morning.

Madara had never trusted Hashirama within ten feet of him with a hairbrush, and for some reason, that hurt.

Madara's body, thin as a child, but muscled enough that Hashirama couldn't accuse him of not eating. All Uchihas were slender, but Madara was thinner than most, Hashirama usually able to count his ribs just by hugging him. Every time Hashirama tried to get him to eat, the Uchiha would usually just push it away, claiming that he "wasn't hungry and that he could feed himself, dammit." The Senju usually wouldn't try and reason with him, but every time they had sex, he could feel the sharp protrusions of Madara's hipbones digging into his thighs, and he could see how hollow his cheekbones and neck looked, his collarbone practically sticking out from his chest.

It killed him to see the lengths Madara would go to become even better.

Madara's hair, his eyes, his body, his voice, his laugh, his tears…every part of him was a work of art.

Every part of him was beautiful.

Every part of him was perfect.

Hashirama loved every part of him.

And it scared him that Madara couldn't see that.

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…well. That was shit. I wanted to progress further into the lemon, but…I just…GRARGH! *throws hamster.* Please review. Or I really will throw my hamster. And I don't think anyone would want that.


	8. Changing

I don't want you to change.

I love you just the way you are.

I want you to be the same boy that I first met almost twenty years ago.

The first time I met you, I really hated you.

Do you remember that?

I do.

I remember how I was trying to skip a rock across the river, but I just couldn't do it. And then you came up and skipped the rock right across! I was so pissed off at you, I could barely see straight. But I forced myself to calm down, and soon enough we were getting along well enough, laughing about things that I can't even remember. But eventually, we had to go back home to our clans.

Do you remember when your father and brothers attacked mine?

I do.

I remember that one of your brothers was killed from that attack. I remember that you came the next day, and your eyes were red and swollen from crying. I remember making fun of you at first, then pulling you into a hug when you started sobbing in front of me.

I'm sorry. I didn't want that to happen.

Do you remember when you said that we should build a village?

I do.

I remember your face, wide and open, your eyes gleaming with happiness. You were so excited when you proposed the idea. And I remember how I teased you for it, calling you childish and stupid, even though I was the same age as you. You just looked me in the eyes, then shoved me to the ground, pinning me down for what seemed like eternity before you moved.

That was the first time you kissed me.

Do you remember when you became Hokage?

I do.

I remember how shocked you were when they announced it, your eyes practically bulging with shock. Tobirama clapped you on the back, grinning as well, proclaiming loudly that he was "just so proud that his brother was Hokage." And I remember how I stormed out and locked myself in my room. You came and begged me to open the door so that we could talk. Eventually, you just broke the door open and barged in, grabbing me and pulling me into a hug that nearly broke my ribs from the force.

That was the first time we had sex.

And through all of this you never changed.

Until now.

I can't _bear _to see you change. I don't _want _you to change.

I won't let you change.

I will become perfect for you. I will do what you ask. I will do what you say. I will do _anything _for you.

Just please don't change.

_You can't change._

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...a bit of an angsty Madara, ne?

Review!


	9. Jealousy

_Tick._

_Tock._

_Tick._

_Tock._

Hashirama growled and tore his glare away from the clock to land on the man in front of him. Never in his _entire life _had he _ever _been so entirely…

_Furious. _

Yes. Furious. He was furious. He was about ready to _scream _from how incredibly _pissed_ he was. And it seemed as though Madara didn't give a damn.

In fact, the Uchiha was casually buffing his nails on his shirt, pointedly ignoring the burning glares from the Hokage. Glancing up, he noticed, with a smirk, that the Senju seemed to be trying to burn a hole in Madara's head from the force of his glares. You could practically cut the tension radiating off of him with a kunai. Letting out a small chuckle at how tense the bigger man seemed to be, the Uchiha leaned forward and rested his chin in the palm of one of his hands, his elbow perched on the desk, giving him the perfect angle to meet Hashirama's eyes.

"Something wrong, Ha-shi-ra-ma~?" the smaller man purred, pouting his lips in the way he _knew _Hashirama couldn't resist. The Hokage swallowed and cleared his throat, bearing down on Madara and grabbing his chin with his hands.

"Yes, there _appears _to be a slight…_issue…_with how you chose to gain my attention." Hashirama growled, face burning hot at the memories of the previous night. The Uchiha simpered and brought his face closer to the Hokage's, voice taking on a childish tone.

"But Hashi, you were being so _mean _to me! You were ignoring me and kept pushing me away at night! What else was I supposed to do?" The Uchiha's innocent words were the last straw for the bigger man, who yanked Madara up by the hair and slammed him against the wall.

"_That doesn't mean you have to sleep with my brother!" _Hashirama screamed,_ "_God_dammit, _Madara! I thought I knew you better than that!" Now it was Madara's turn to glare, and he yanked Hashirama's hands off of him, standing on his toes to meet the gaze of the Senju, Sharingan swirling violently.

"Well, what else was I supposed to do?! You wouldn't even _look _at me, let alone actually _talk! _And why are you so upset?! I needed relief from someone, and _you _sure as hell wouldn't help me! Tobirama was the only one who was around, and who was willing, so you can go scream at _your_ goddamn brother for actually taking advantage of the opportunity!" Hashirama swallowed a lump of anger in his throat and pinned the Uchiha against the wall.

"I don't want you doing that with _anyone _else again." His voice had fallen to a cruel whisper, but Madara could only smirk at his words.

"Aw, isn't that cute? Little Hashi is jealous of his otouto for fucking the guy he likes! Now isn't that just _precious?" _The Hokage flinched at his words, but kept his composure.

"Madara, this isn't a game-" The smaller man interrupted him, bringing their faces close enough to where Hashirama could feel Madara's hot breath against his cheek.

"Of course, this means I can't tell you how good he made me feel, can I? Oh god, your brother is _huge!_ I thought he was going to rip me apart when he thrust into me, but it _hurt so good!_ And when I sucked his dick, I didn't ever want to take my mouth off of him because his cum was the best tasting thing-" Madara's retelling was cut short by Hashirama's large hand clapping down over his mouth, eyes open in horror.

"Don't you ever, _ever _speak like that about Tobirama again! I know you were bored, and I'm sorry for ignoring you, but don't going fucking around with my family members!" Madara rolled his eyes and pulled the hand off his mouth, yanking Hashirama down into a sloppy kiss, one that the Hokage quickly dominated. Hashirama nipped at Madara's lips so that they would open, and the Uchiha gladly complied, tongue twining itself around the Senju's. Hashirama moaned as the smaller man palmed him through his robes, and he quickly yanked Madara's off, lust overtaking all sense of reason.

Neither one of them noticed their younger brothers peeping in through the door, both of them with conniving grins on their faces.

"Operation: Get-Hashirama-to-Fuck-Madara-to-Ease-the-Sexual-Tension-by-Making-Him-Jealous is a success!" Tobirama high-fived Izuna, the younger Uchiha smirking knowledgably.

"Nii-san will go to great lengths to get what he wants, that's for sure." The younger Senju nodding at this, then pulled Izuna down for a quick kiss before entwining his hand with the Uchiha's and sneaking away.

_Jealousy is a great weapon to use,_ he thought to himself, glancing over at his shorter lover.

"Oh, and Tobirama…?" Izuna's smiling face didn't betray a thing, even as he sucker-punched the Senju in the gut, leaving him gasping and writhing on the ground in pain.

"Don't ever, _ever _sleep with nii-san again." The Senju could only groan in reply.

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…_They're getting longer! _

And the whole TobiramaxMadara thing was not my idea, it was a suggestion given to me by Madara's Armour! Go check out their work!

Review!


	10. Petrichor

Hashirama stood under the tree with his arms crossed, watching the lone figure stand in the midst of the pouring rain. A small, undecorated tombstone was the object of the figure's attention, and they knelt down in front of it before hesitantly reaching out and brushing their fingers over it.

Madara had been sneaking off during the day, and Hashirama had decided to follow him to see where he was going. He had been afraid that Madara was sneaking off to get drunk, or to stop by the local brothel and drown his worries in drunkenness and sex, but it seemed that his worries were unfounded.

After all, there's nothing wrong with visiting your younger brother's grave, right?

Suddenly making up his mind, Hashirama stepped out from underneath the protection of the tree, immediately drenching himself in the storm. Squelching his way over to the kneeling figure, he was unsurprised to see that Madara's shoulders were shaking, and that the Uchiha had his face buried in his hands.

Taking the last few steps to stand next to the smaller man, Hashirama knelt on the ground next to him, immediately wrapping his arms around the Uchiha and cradling him like a baby to his chest, Madara automatically gripping the front of the Hokage's robes.

"Uh…uhn…_hic…_I…Izuna…uh…" The Senju slowly began to rock both of their bodies back and forth as Madara sobbed into his chest, not caring that their clothes were getting muddy.

"Shh, it's okay, Madara, I'm here." Hashirama murmured nonsense to the smaller male as he held him, tears beginning to prick the corners of his own eyes. He couldn't stand seeing anyone in pain, and he had always had a soft spot for tears. He didn't care that he was drenched to the bone from the rainstorm raging around him, and he didn't care that he was shirking his duties. Madara needed him, and he would do _anything _to get him to stop crying.

The Uchiha stiffened, and a shudder passed through his body before he slowly opened his eyes and looked Hashirama in the eye. The amount of pain and despair swimming in those red eyes automatically caused Hashirama to grip Madara tighter. The tears that still fell created tracks on Madara's pale face, and the eyes themselves were swollen, which indicated that Madara had been crying, even before he came to Izuna's grave. The Senju was so entranced with the eyes that he nearly missed what Madara said.

"Don't leave me."

The whisper was what pushed Hashirama over the edge, and he finally allowed his own tears to fall. He buried his face in Madara's unruly mane of hair, and he wept, the smaller man clutching him all the while. They knelt there for hours, just holding each other and weeping, as if they were the last two people left alive.

Hashirama would never forget everything about that day. He would never forget the feeling of the rain on his back, or the sound of Madara's muffled screams into his chest. He would never forget the smell of the rain on the ground, the sky shedding its own tears as well. Every time it rained, he had to prevent himself from bursting into tears when he smelled the faint, musky scent of the rain hitting the ground.

For every time he remembered it, he remembered the day Madara broke.

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…this was not at all how I planned.

...did anybody actually like this chapter? I kinda felt like I was just throwing in random crap at some points. I actually forgot to include the theme until the very end, which is why you ended up with an angsty ending.

Speaking of which, I have always loved the smell of the earth after rain, but I didn't know it had a technical name until, like, two months ago…

Review!


	11. Setting You Free

It wasn't often that Hashirama Senju cried, but the sight of his friend, his companion, his _lover, _lying on the ground, both legs twisted horribly and a kunai stuck up under his ribcage with blood dribbling out of the corner of his mouth just about brought him to tears.

"Hah…_shit…" _Madara groaned in pain as the Senju attempted to get him to sit up, but the blood that covered the smaller man was making it difficult. Hashirama was almost frantic, his mouth set in a thin line and his brows furrowed, which made it almost impossible to see the tears that were threatening to spill over his eyes.

"It's okay, Madara, you're going to be just fine, we'll get you back to the village and heal you and then you'll be the same as usual!" Hashirama swallowed at his words and how false they sounded. Madara's head lolled to the side, panting heavily.

"Madara, open your eyes now. Look at me." Hashirama's tone grew desperate. "Look at me!"

"I _can't, _goddammit!" Madara suddenly shrieked, head snapping back towards the Senju. "I don't have any fucking eyes anymore, you asshole!" His eyelids flew open, and Hashirama could barely contain himself from retching at the sight. Madara's eyes had been sloppily gouged out, thick slashes covering the skin all around his eye-sockets. Chunks of the flesh had been gouged out as well, showing how hard Madara had struggled, and there were some gashes that were so deep, you could see the white flash of bone. Thick gouts of blood still dribbled out of the corners of the sockets, falling to the ground with wet plopping noises. The Uchiha coughed, and red splattered Hashirama's breastplate, staining the already red armor a deeper shade of crimson. The Senju could do nothing but watch helplessly as his lover continued coughing, more and more blood pooling on the ground around them, Madara's already pale skin growing whiter and whiter.

"God…Madara…" Hashirama held the smaller man tighter, not caring that Madara's fingers gripped his hair and coating it with blood, not caring that his pants were torn and stained, not caring that there was a _battle _raging on around them. All that mattered to him at that moment was Madara.

"Hashirama…" Madara tried to speak, but the bigger man shushed him.

"Don't try to speak. We need to get you out of here, so save your strength." Madara's grip on Hashirama's hair tightened, and he would have glared at the Senju had he still had his eyes.

"Hashirama, don't bother. The kunai they used…" A feeling of dread settled in Hashirama's heart, and he gripped Madara's wrist.

"No…" He whispered, and he let out an anguished wail as Madara nodded in affirmation. The man broke down right then, sobbing as he buried his face in Madara's hair.

"You…you can't leave me…I can't…Don't leave me!" His voice had reached a feverish shriek, and he crushed the smaller man to him, as unwilling to let him go as a child who didn't want to share their toy. Madara's breathing grew ragged, and if he had his eyes, he would have been crying as well, the first time since his younger brother had died.

"Just…promise me…take care…of the village…and don't sacrifice…yourself…" Madara grabbed Hashirama's hair and brought their faces closer together, his empty eye-sockets boring into the Senju's brown orbs. The bigger man could only choke back another sob and nod, forgetting that Madara couldn't see.

"I…I will."

And then Madara smiled, something that Hashirama had not seen in a very, _very_ long time. His grip loosened, and his breath became more shallow, blood bubbling at his mouth. The Senju gently kissed Madara one last time and whispered in the Uchiha's ear.

"I love you." Hashirama could barely hear the last three words that Madara spoke over the screams and the sounds of war surrounding them.

"Love…you…too…" And the Uchiha's hand fell limp, splashing down into the bloody puddle around them. Hashirama swallowed back a scream of sadness, then stood up, gently laying Madara's body down on the ground, covering it with his cloak. Drawing his sword, he stalked across the battlefield, towards the fighting.

Someone was going to pay with their life.

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I CAN'T WRITE ENDINGS! GRARGH!

I apologize for not updating sooner, but…I kinda…yeah, there was no excuse. I'm sorry.

Review?


	12. Colors

White.

His skin was white.

It was always so, so white. He looked dead at times, like when he first woke up, or when he hadn't slept in a while. He looked absolutely _drained _of blood, and when he actually was bleeding…he was as white as chalk, as bone, as new-fallen snow. His pale skin was so easy to mar, a firm grip on the wrist left grotesque purple and green bruises where on another person's skin you wouldn't even be able to tell if someone had gripped them. Any cut or burn _always _left a mark on his skin, and so his arms and back were littered with scars and scabs that would _never _fade away, injuries that he simply ignored and didn't care about, because they were an unnecessary thing to worry about.

And it _scared _him that he didn't care.

Black.

His hair was black.

It was as black as his heart, he often joked. It almost blended in with the night when they were out later in the day. The shadows that surrounded them intertwined with his black locks, giving him an eerie, almost possessed look. His thick black eyelashes blocked his eyes most of the time, but underneath them you could still see the tell-tale bloody glare of his Sharingan, his pride and joy.

His most beautiful and most deadly feature.

Red.

His eyes were always red.

Even in the dark, his eyes always shone like a beacon, the only visible part of him in the pitch-black night. In the midst of battle, his eyes would almost seem to be on fire, whether it be from the heat of the battle, or from the black flames that he controlled with them. The blood that would trickle out from them whenever he overused them left tracks down his face that would take days to fade away, which made it look like he was constantly crying blood.

Eyes red as blood.

Hair black as ebony.

Skin white as snow.

He was almost like a little doll, so pretty and fragile.

So easy to break.

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…I actually wrote a drabble that was under 350 words.

Dear Jashin, we are all going to die.

Review?


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